


loneliness

by lusterrdust



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cheating, F/M, Light Angst, Light Smut, Loveless Marriage, Random oneshot, Self-Doubt, Self-Worth, betty deserves love, betty tries to love herself again, bughead - Freeform, idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: Along the road, she stopped viewing herself as that fairy tale princess. As a person. She stopped viewing herself as someone who deserved love or affection, someone who was worthy. She stopped loving herself, and she thinks that’s perhaps the most tragic part of it all. [slight bughead, betty centric]





	loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> wow, it's been a while
> 
> uh, idk where this came from but i figured i'd post it since i wrote it out. hope you enjoy regardless. xoxo

 

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _your value doesn't decrease  
>  based on someone's inability  
>  to see your worth_
> 
>  ◯

People always think loneliness stems from being just that—alone.

But Elizabeth Cooper ( _Andrews_ ) knows you can experience loneliness as one half of a couple. She experiences it in her marriage. She experiences it in the way her husband overlooks the new dress she’s just bought, or the haircut she freshly dons. She experiences it during his monthly company dinners, when she’s sat at a long table of business men and their wives, watching as they all sit there to sip their drinks and twiddle their thumbs while the men roar with laughter over inappropriate jokes and the football game airing over the restaurant’s television.

Mostly, Elizabeth Cooper ( _Andrews_ ) experiences loneliness when she’s in bed, wide awake and wondering when she stopped questioning her husband’s late work nights. She wonders when the pain of suspecting infidelity turned into a numbness that branches out into every part of her mind and body.

She’s not stupid.

She’s seen her husband’s secretary.

Veronica Lodge is beautiful. She’s exciting, _tempting_.

Elizabeth Cooper ( _Andrews_ ) can’t compete. So she doesn’t.

She stops waiting for Archie to get home. She makes dinner for one, sitting at their eight-person table with a sad single dish served. Wine loses its flavor and she stops fussing over outfits and makeup and hair.

It’s on one such evening that she’s eating alone that the doorbell rings.

Furrowing her brow in confusion, she wipes her mouth with a napkin daintily and walks to the foyer, briefly glancing at her appearance in the hanging mirror. She’s still got her work vest and pinstriped skirt on—her nude pantyhose frayed and giving a peek to the bruise blooming on her left knee after tripping up stairs the day prior.

The guest at the door is an unexpected one and she feels her mouth drop in surprise.

“Jughead!”

Hands tucked in his pockets and hair slicked back, her old friend gives an easy grin to her reaction. “Hey, Betts.”

The old nickname stirs something in her chest and she steps forward to embrace the taller man, laughing lightly when he doesn’t hesitate to return it wholeheartedly. “I thought you were in the Maldives! What are you doing here?”

She ushers him inside and helps him take his coat off, hanging it on the coat rack nearby.

He looks good. Skin kissed golden by the sun and eyes bright and blue. He looks… stunning.

Betty breathes in sharply at the thought and quickly shakes her head, leading him to the living room where the display of her sad, single meal is centerfold for his viewing in the shared dining area.

Jughead stares at the large table and then looks back at her before rubbing the back of his neck. “My team finished the dig early. I’m in town for a couple days. I’m leaving Sunday morning, actually.”

“Oh,” she blinks, gesturing for him to sit down. “I’m sorry you’ll miss Archie then. I’m afraid he’s away this weekend on a business trip.”

Business trip. With his secretary.

Jughead shakes his head. “I’m actually here for you.”

Betty’s spine straightens, her eyes widening. “Me?”

He leans forward on his knees and folds his fingers together, staring at her. “There’s a piece I need authenticated. Chinese artifact. Only problem is I can’t pinpoint what Dynasty.”

Pushing out a rough breath from her chest, Betty shakes her head. “Jug, I—”

“It’ll be quick, I promise.” He pleads lightly, scooting forward on his seat. “Listen, if we can authenticate this piece and showcase it for viewing at my advisor’s museum, my team and I have a full grant prepared to dig at _Ta Prohm_. Please, Betts. You’re the only person I trust with something this big.”

“But…Juggie, I—I don’t do that anymore.” She says quietly, watching the enthusiasm on his face fall. “I haven’t authenticated art in-in years! I don’t want to…to…”

“Just because you decided to work for Archie’s bank doesn’t mean your degree is any less valid.” He grimaces before reaching out for her hand. His eyes are too blue—too intense. “Just…will you sleep on it? Have breakfast with me tomorrow?”

Suddenly, the ring on her finger feels like a million pounds, and the way Jughead’s palm brushes over the princess cut diamond makes her stomach turn. Still, she finds herself nodding. The warmth of another person’s touch drawing her in like a moth to a flame. His undivided attention makes her eyes avoid his own—the contact too much—too heavy. So she just nods and says a simple, “okay.”

When he leaves, after a short time of catching up, Betty finds herself lying in bed wide awake. Her hand still burns with Jughead’s touch and for the first time in five years, she slips her wedding ring off and places it in her bedside table before closing her eyes and drifting into a restless sleep.

…

The next morning is more of the same, deep conversations and reminiscing of high school and college. Betty hasn’t had this kind of attention centered around her in years. It’s… exhilarating. Terrifying. Exhilarating.

She and Jughead spend the entire Saturday together, and she authenticates the artifact as Tang.

“Listen,” he speaks, later in the evening when they’re standing outside her front door. “I leave tomorrow morning and I know you have your life here, but I need a Field Supervisor. I’ve gone through hundreds of applications—”

“Jug,”

“I need _you_ , Betty.”

Maybe it’s the fact that she hasn’t heard anyone, not even her husband, say those words to her in ages—context be damned. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s been pondering a bunch of ‘what-ifs’ for the entirety of the day; thinking back to times in college when she’d wondered if she and Jughead could have ever been a thing.

There’d been a moment. Once.

When Archie had skipped out on a date and left her hanging at the Uni’s on site café. Jughead had spotted her at once and finished the evening with her, allowing her pride to be only slightly bruised instead of shattered at being stood up. She’d given him a kiss on the cheek and ignored the blush that spread over his face—telling herself it was the summer heat.

She’d found out later that Jughead had given Archie a stern talking to, making the redhead apologize to Betty for being a shitty boyfriend.

Betty remembers instances of late nights together with Jughead, gorging out on junk food and helping each other study—their love for ancient history one of the many passions they shared. She remembers his compliments over her intelligence and his belief in her abilities to touch every corner of the earth with her mind and soul.

Betty remembers facetime calls between him and Archie—even recently—and hearing him ask about her wellbeing. She remembers him gushing over each new country he got to travel in, while the sting of envy dulled in her chest with every call.

She feels the loneliness so acute now. With him here, it’s poignant. Betty doesn’t want to be a bank teller. She doesn’t want to spend every day out of the week alone in her big house, prim and proper and waiting for her husband to come back just to ignore her with his fake smiles and lingering scent of another woman’s perfume.

“Betty?”

Without thinking, she surges forward and slants her lips across Jughead’s in a heated kiss. He freezes for a moment, her name mumbled across her mouth in a confused, startled exclamation, but it’s quickly silenced as he melts into the action. His hands cradle her face closely as their kiss speeds into something almost desperate.

It’s wrong. So, so _wrong_.

She’s married. Jughead is Archie’s best friend. It’s wrong.

But fuck if it doesn’t feel damn good.

Jughead’s kiss leaves her dizzy, his body pressing her against the dining room table, the oak bare and empty for her to be lifted onto.

“Y-you feel,” Betty doesn’t know what she’s mumbling. All she knows is that she hasn’t been touched in nearly four months and Jughead’s fingers tracing and outlining every sensitive part of her skin makes her keen—the sound bouncing off white walls and forcing more heat to pool in her stomach. She sounds _wrecked_. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard herself be this shameless. It turns her on more than she thinks it should. “Jughead, please—”

“Fuck, Betts, we… we can’t—” he cuts himself off when she disposes herself of her shirt and bra, hiking her skirt up past her thighs to better position him in between. “ _Jesus_ ,”

“Do you need me, Jughead?” she whispers in his ear, tracing her tongue around the shell of it. “Tell me you need me.”

His forehead drops to the arch of her neck as he groans, nodding as his thumb flicks over her left nipple. “ _I want you so bad.”_

Somehow, him wanting her is all the more better.

They fuck there on her dining room table, rough and desperate. And when Jughead puts his clothes back on, guilt clouded in his eyes, he still doesn’t hesitate to kiss her gently on the lips as she walks him to the door.

“My flight leaves tomorrow at six.” He tells her, tracing her bottom lip with his forefinger. “I… If you don’t accept the job, I understand. It was wrong of me to spring all of this on you in such short notice. I have three weeks to find a Field Supervisor. If you… if you decide to do it, you know where to find me.”

He leaves as suddenly as he came, though her emotions are now completely blustered. It’s like she’s stepped in the middle of a cyclone and had her thoughts rattled about until there wasn’t anything that made sense anymore.

When Archie arrives home late the next evening, well past Jughead’s flight back to his Museum in London, he sits at the table that now holds the secret of her late night rendezvous and waits to be waited on.

He talks about his trip as she prepares his dinner as if on autopilot.

He talks about how exhausted he is, and how he’s going to have to put in even more overtime the next following months.

Betty doesn’t miss the purple bruises peeking from under his collar.

Whatever, she thinks to herself. She’s got a few new ones just under her breasts, lining her ribcage and thighs.

“I got a job offer.” She speaks, cutting him off as he rambles away, not even once having asked how her weekend was.

Archie pauses and watches her curiously as he drinks his rum and coke.

“In Cambodia.”

There’s silence as she gauges his reaction, her fingers clenching around her glass before her husband busts out in a loud laugh. She blinks, taken aback by it, wondering if he truly didn’t mind her working so far away. Perhaps it’d be easier for him to sneak around.

“What’d they say when you said no?” he chuckles, digging back into his food as her brow furrows with the response.

Why would he assume she said no?

What was funny about that?

“I didn’t say no.”

Archie frowns then, chewing slowly before he shakes his head with a wry smile. “Sweetheart, you know you can’t work that far from home. What about your job here? What about me?”

“It’s a sixth month expedition.” She continues, stating the information Jughead has given her on the job. “Once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d be crazy to flat out say no.”

“Without even consulting me first?” Archie quips, now finally sounding just the barest hints of angry. Betrayed, even. “You could’ve called me.”

“Your phone was off.”

He colors slightly at that and Betty feels some bitter part of her ruffle in indignance. “I thought you gave up this stuff years ago.”

 _Yeah, for you_ , her brain shouts. But she merely shrugs. “This is something I want to do. I’m asking you to support me.”

Archie’s lips thin as the silence hangs around them for a long thirty seconds. “No.”

The tension doesn’t dissipate.

“No, I can’t support this.” He shakes his head. “Do you know the statistics of relationships failing during the course of long distance?”

“Is it in the same rank as infidelity?” she quips, feeling parts of her soul that she’d once believed to have died now stirring back to life like a forest fire.

Her husband pales before glaring openly at her. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”

“Do you think so little of my intelligence that I wouldn’t find out?” she responds with a grimace.

Is this what nine years of a relationship comes to? Five of those in marriage? Numbness? Anger? Acceptance.

“I haven’t loved you for a long time, Archie.” Betty’s words tumble from her lips before she can help herself.

It’s not about her night with Jughead. It’s not even about Archie at this point. It’s about her. In all these years, Betty’s lost sight of who she is. She’s given every part of herself to a man and to a relationship she knew so long ago was doomed to end, all because of her pride and denial. All because she’d built this fairy tale ending in her head—panned out her life like a fictional book, just waiting for the happy end with the prince charming.

But along the road, she stopped viewing herself as that fairy tale princess. As a _person_. She stopped viewing herself as someone who deserved love or affection, who was worthy. She stopped loving herself, and she thinks that’s perhaps the most tragic part of it all.

“I think you stopped loving me a long time ago as well.”

Archie stands up and slams his napkin to the table before storming into the garage. She hears the engine to his Mercedes start up and sighs as it peels out of the driveway and out of hearing range.

Gathering the dishes, she washes them and takes a shower before pulling the large travel suitcase in the back of her closet out.

Nerves begin to spread throughout her body as she opens her laptop and types in _‘Ta Prohm’_ into the browser. She googles the museum Jughead works for and feels the first trickles of excitement spike through her.

Biting her lip, she reaches for her phone and dials Jughead’s number. She doesn’t know if he’s home yet, but given the flight time, he could be.

Just before she hangs up, a familiar voice statics into her ear. _“Betty?”_

“Hey,” the simple words falls out of her in a heavy exhale. Her teeth gnaw at her lip as her eyes roam idly over the webpage describing the Siem Reap Province. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

 _“No,”_ Jughead’s voice sounds softer as a bit of shuffling from the other end ceases _. “I just got home actually.”_

She winces in sympathy. “Shit, I forgot about time differences. I’m so sorry to bother you this early.”

 _“You could never bother me, Betts.”_ He chuckles, and she can almost hear his eyeroll as her chest tightens with something akin to affection. _“What’s wrong? Are you… is everything okay?”_

“I don’t regret it.” She says randomly, knowing he’ll grasp the hook. “What happened, I don’t regret it, but…”

 _“…but it shouldn’t have happened.”_ He finishes quietly.

“At least not like that.”

Jughead remains quiet as she breathes in to gather the courage to continue. “I’ve forgotten how much I love being out there. Exploring different places and seeing new things. I’m… I told Archie about the job.”

There’s a quiet inhale from the other side of the line. _“And?”_

“He disapproves.” She says lightly, glancing to her open bedroom door and back to the travel case on her bed. “I accept your job offer. If you’re still offering.”

There’s silence, and she’s sure the call’s been disconnected before he’s speaking again.

_“Betty, are… wait, are you sure? Don’t you and Archie want to… talk about it? I don’t want you to feel pressured. We have time. Three more weeks, you know—”_

“No.” she shakes her head, blonde hair falling from the loose ponytail. “I’m done waiting. I’m finally doing something for myself, Juggie. God,” she chokes up somewhat, clenching her eyes shut, “you know better than anyone how much I gave up for him. I’m not giving this up. I can’t be the only one making sacrifices in this marriage! Archie will just have to grow to accept it, and if not… well,”

She lets him fill in the blanks before he’s responding quietly. _“I know, Betts.”_

He sends her more information now that she’s accepted the position through email and they bid each other a good night before she begins packing.

Archie doesn’t come home that night and she books a flight for London a week away.

She apologizes to her boss for the short notice on leaving and promises she’ll stay until the following week, determined to find a replacement as to not inconvenience her team. When she gets home, Archie is still gone and she makes a meal for one.

Later that evening, when she’s showered and in bed, she receives a text from Jughead.

_I hope things between you and Arch patch up soon. Looking forward to seeing you!_

But Betty doesn’t hope things patch up. She truly doesn’t care at this point. Her wedding ring is still in her bedside drawer and she startles at the realization she’s had it off this entire time.

When Archie arrives home, smelling like liquor and perfume, her decision is further cemented.

This is the right choice for her.

No matter how warm his arms are swiping around her middle and pulling her close to his drunken self.

…

“You quit your job.”

Betty looks up from her crouched position, packing her things. Archie’s standing in the doorway of their bedroom, frowning. She looks away and continues her task. “I have another one.”

“Betty,” he pleads, stepping forward. “You can’t go. What about the bills? What about—”

“Archie, I never ask you for anything.” She finally snaps, sounding less angry and more exhausted. Tossing clothing into her trunk, Betty shakes her head. “All I’m asking is for you to support this one expedition! It’s not like I’m going to be alone! Jughead has a whole team of—”

“Wait, Jughead? _My_ Jughead?” Archie cuts.

“How many Jughead’s are there?” She snides with an eyeroll, “Yes, _your_ Jughead.”

“No. No, Betty. Absolutely not.” He sounds vehement now. “When the hell—you two went behind my back and planned this out? What the _fuck_!? Why didn’t he ask me first for my permission?”

“Permission!?” she fumes, now standing up to level her gaze with his, heart thudding wildly in her chest. On the one hand, she did sleep with the man. But on the other, Archie doesn’t really have much to say on infidelity. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything! Jughead was kind enough to offer me the job because he knows I would’ve been interested.”

“You’re my wife! You _do_ need my permission. Or at least my consideration!”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me, Archie Andrews!”

He jabs his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated and red. “I’m calling him.”

“Don’t you dare!” she rushes forward with a grimace. “It’s nearly two in the morning there and he has a huge viewing tomorrow!”

At that, Archie glares at her before snarling, “Getting close behind my back, too?”

“We’ve been friends since kindergarten, you idiot! Don’t act so wounded because you were left out of one damn thing!”

He calls anyway, yelling things into the phone and stalking off to leave until Betty is once again, alone.

She cries on the floor, mostly in frustration to her situation. When had her life become this? Why was it so difficult to pursue her passion—a passion that was attainable?

She ignores Jughead’s concerned text and falls asleep on the floor, wondering if she’d ever reach a point where she didn’t hold such disdain for herself.

…

Archie comes and goes until the day of her flight. He begs and cries and yells and gives ultimatums, but her decision is set. He doesn’t take her to the airport. In fact, he doesn’t wake up to say goodbye.

He’d been pissed off the night prior, trying to initiate sex. But when Betty refused, he became angry, juvenile.

She sets her wedding ring on the pillow and drives away from her white picket home.

Getting on the plane, she feels adrenaline course through her veins as her phone dampens with sweat from her fingers. Wiping the screen and her hands off her jeans, she stares out the window and feels a wave of serenity wash over her.

She did it.

She finally did something for herself.

She doesn’t know what this means for her marriage. Nor does she know what it means for her and Jughead, but truthfully? That’s not what she’s concerned about now. All she can think about is the job at hand. At the experiences she’ll get to have and the discoveries she’ll get to witness.

Maybe she’ll be able to find the parts of herself that were lost and abandoned throughout the years.

She doesn’t know for sure, but the prospect is exciting.

When her phone buzzes, blue eyes flicker down to read the text from Jughead, staring at the picture attached with a wide smile.

_My Betty Jones kit is ready! Sorry, you don’t get the hat. It must be earned._

There’s a picture of a brand-new cargo outfit laid out on a bed, a sign with her name written in big, bold letters of glittery pink on it that she knows will be used for her landing at the airport and her heart swells.

Her phone buzzes again, and then again, and again, the messages making her bite her lip as her amusement grows with a raised brow.

_I meant Betty Jones bc Indiana Jones_

_Not_

_I didn’t mean, you know_

_..It was Indiana Jones_

_I’m going to stop now. I’ll see you at the airport._

She texts back a laughing emoji and puts her phone on airplane mode before starting her music up. Five hours in, the attendant gives her a meal.

Looking through the window at the endless clouds and sky, Betty thinks this is the first meal she’s had alone where she doesn’t feel it—the loneliness.

It’s nice.

She smiles and rests her head against the seat, letting her music lull her into peaceful sleep.

Yeah, it’s nice.


End file.
